Translucent (13 page)

She doesn’t respond, so I take it upon myself to fetch a new shirt from my room and place it on the counter next to her. “The shirt’s right here. I’m going to go downstairs and get you some ibuprofen and water. I’ll meet you back in bed.”

Thankfully, she’s dressed and waiting on the bed as I instructed when I return—physically, at least. Her knees are pulled tightly to her chest, her chin resting on her knees, and her eyes are open but hazy as she stares into space expressionless.

“Here you go. This should help you feel better too,” I say as I sit next to her, offering her the pills and a bottle of water.

No response.

“Blake, baby, please drink some water,” I urge. “The medicine will help with the pain as well.”

Zombie-like she takes the pills and water from me, and tosses the tablets into her mouth. Two quick drinks of water, and she hands the bottle back to me. “Can you please take me to my car?” she asks deadpan.

“No, I can’t take you to your car!” I shout louder than I meant to, ashamed when she flinches at my tone. “I’m sorry,” I say in a softer voice, “but I’m not taking you to your car at this hour of the morning, especially before you and I talk about what happen tonight. First, you run away at the event when they call your name—which I didn’t pressure you to talk about—and now, you have a nightmare that’s so bad you literally claw the skin off of your body. Earlier this week, you had one that caused you to nearly bite a hole in your lip, so something’s going on, and I want to know what it is.”

Turning slightly to face me, she shakes her head. “Who do you think you are? I’ve known you less than a week, and now you think you have the right to ask me about my deep, dark secrets because you’ve bought me a few meals and kissed me a couple of times? I don’t know you, and I sure as hell don’t trust you. You probably just want to fuck me, and then I’ll never hear from you again.”

Breathing deeply, I force myself to think out my response thoroughly before opening my mouth. I know she’s hurting in every way possible, and I don’t want to push her farther away.

“Blake, everything you just said is truthful and accurate. I could sit here and tell you how much you should trust me, and how I feel this enigmatic, mystifying connection when I’m around you—something I’ve never felt before—and that I would never do anything to hurt you, but none of it means anything. They’re simply words.” I pause to allow that part to sink in.

However, please let my actions tonight speak for something. When you ran away earlier, I didn’t get mad; I didn’t take you to your car then, wanting to get rid of you. No, instead, I brought you to
my
home, offered you
my
clothes, and fed you
my
food, knowing damn well I wasn’t going to
fuck
you, as you so eloquently put it. When I found you in the bathroom, my first instinct was to take care of you, to help you clean up and feel better, not to get you the hell out of my house.” Again, another pause.

“I’m a smart man. I understand we’ve known each other less than a week, and I’m not here professing my undying love to you, nor am I promising I will ever do that. I’ve been burned before, and I’m not sure I’ll ever give my heart to someone, just for them to rip it to shreds again. What I am telling you is from the moment I laid eyes on you in that boardroom, I haven’t been able to get you out of my head. I won’t lie and tell you I don’t dream about making that tiny body of yours writhe in ecstasy and seeing your beautiful blue eyes gloss over as I make you come on-command, but I can
fuck
just about anyone. You—everything about you cries out to me to claim as my own. I want to take care of you and protect you, and I mean that in the least-creepy way possible from someone thirteen years older than you. Getting to know each other and learning to trust each other are the first steps in that process.”

I figure I better stop, because she’s staring at me as if I’ve grown a second head throughout my spiel. I’m not ashamed to tell her how I feel—this isn’t a fucking game to me—but I don’t want to overwhelm her either, which I’m afraid I’ve now done.

“Please take me to my car, Madden. I can’t do this…not right now,” is all she says, her eyes devoid of feeling.

Discouraged…frustrated…damn close to outright angry, I sigh heavily. “I can’t right now, Blake. I will first thing in the morning. Try to get some rest, and please try not to hurt yourself again.” Fighting every urge inside of my body to stay with her and demand she talk, to kiss her and tell her I’ll somehow make everything better, I stand up and walk out of the room, leaving her alone.

F
OR
TWO
LONG
HOURS
, I sit virtually motionless in Madden’s bed, his words echoing in my head.

Mystifying connection…

Claim as my own…

Take care of you and protect you...

Learning to trust…

All of it sounds amazing, words so impeccably perfect; I never dreamed a man would say those things to me, especially not a man like Madden. My memory flickers through the images of him from the past week—the moment our eyes first met, the first time he called me
sweet girl
, the concern on his face when he found me in the backyard, the awe-inspiring kiss that turned my world upside-down, and finally, the vulnerability and compassion he showed as he knelt in front of me, first cleaning and medicating my cuts, and then tenderly kissing my stomach to soothe me.

As much as I want to believe him, and although his actions thus far support his verbal claims, the cynical, distrustful,
realistic
part of my brain reminds me,
It’s only been five days.
Anyone can pretend to be anything for a week…a month…even a year or more. I’m not comparing Madden to Ish—no one deserves that unfair judgment—but at the same time, I can’t forget my past. Ever. People say mistakes are meant for learning, not repeating. I paid the ultimate price for my mistakes, the lives of the two people I loved more than anything, my mom and my brother, brutally and needlessly taken; I’m not sure what else I have to lose, but I’m not quite ready to find out either.

“Are you ready to go?” Madden asks as he walks into the room, his face unreadable. He’s changed into a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt, and based on his damp hair and smooth face, he’s already showered and shaved. I guess he keeps his guestroom stocked with his things as well.

Gingerly, I slide off the bed and mumble, “Yes.” Still dressed in only his t-shirt and boxer shorts, I gather my dress, shoes, and purse from the corner and stumble over towards where he waits, trying not to look at him. Apparently, he’s not too keen on seeing or speaking to me either, because as soon as I get close, he takes off towards the stairs, bounding down them two at a time, not looking back. I follow, struggling to keep up with him until we reach the car parked in the driveway.

He says nothing to me the entire drive to my office, where I need to retrieve my car, so I stare out the window, watching the early morning sun appear from behind the mountainous horizon, quietly lost in my thoughts. I understand he’s upset with me—he put himself out there, and I basically slammed the door in his face. I regret making the comment about him only wanting to fuck me, but I was trying to make him leave me alone, to stop asking questions I can’t answer.
I guess it worked.

Pulling his car up next to mine, I assume he won’t be opening my door for me since he can barely stand to be in my presence, so I reach for the handle.

“Don’t,” he commands brusquely.

Dropping my shaky hand into my lap, I nervously glance over at him. His eyes scan my face, searching for something—answers, most likely.

When he makes no indication he’s going to say anything else, I tell him softly, “I’m sorry for my rude and ungracious behavior after everything you did to help me.”

“Then why did you say those things?”

“I didn’t want to talk about why I do the things I do,” I reply honestly. “I
can’t
talk about it.”

“Because you don’t trust me?” he challenges.

“Because I don’t trust anyone, not even myself.”

Tilting his head slightly, he ponders my answer for a moment, his sky blue eyes softening a bit. Then, catching me completely off-guard, he reaches across the center console and takes one of my hands in his. Bringing it up to his mouth, he affectionately kisses the top of my knuckles. My eyes are glued to where his mouth touches my pale skin as my stomach flutters lightly, secretly happy he hasn’t completely given up on me.

“I don’t know what you’ve been through to make you lose confidence in the human race, and to be quite honest, the scenarios that run through my mind sicken me, but I’m sure your distrust and contempt are more than justified.” Pausing, he flips my hand over and presses several kisses to the open palm.

“We are all a product of our past, but you don’t have to be its prisoner. It’s a conscious choice you make for yourself.” His mouth moves down to the inside of my wrist, where he peppers a trail of kisses around the sensitive flesh. I am fully engrossed in his every word and movement.

“If you can find it in yourself to allot me the tiniest sliver of faith, I will do everything in my power to help you break free from these demons holding you hostage. I want you to willingly turn it all over to me—your
pleasure
and your
pain
. Free yourself, and let them be my responsibility so you can heal both physically and emotionally. I already told you you’ve captivated my attention from the first moment I met you, and every second we’re together—even the ones when you’re running away from me or yelling at me—I become more and more fascinated by all that is Blake Martin.”

“Mad—” I begin.

Shushing me before I can speak, he leans over and captures my lips with his in a kiss that steals away both my words and my breath. He pulls away with an endearing smile. “Don’t answer me now; I want you to think about it for a while. You say we’ve only known each other a week, so let’s spend the same amount of time apart, without seeing or talking to each other. Next weekend, you can let me know what you decide, and if you still aren’t interested in pursuing this—me,
us
—then I’ll never bring it up again. Either way, our business relationship will remain unaffected; the last thing I want to do is jeopardize your emerging career.”

Incredulously, I stare back at him. I’m overwhelmed in every capacity, but I know I shouldn’t make any decisions in my current mental state; however, I can agree to take a few days to think over everything he’s said. Nodding with a meek smile, I agree to his request.

Grinning like he just won the lottery, he throws open his car door, jumps out, and hurries around to mine. Keeping up with his chivalrous ways, he lets me out of the car and walks me the few steps over to mine.

“Thank you for not saying no, sweet girl,” he says as he tucks a flyaway strand of hair behind my left ear, allowing his fingertips to trace my cheekbone afterwards.

Effortlessly, I lean my face into his touch, welcoming the thoughtful gesture. “Thank you for not forcing me to answer now. Honestly, I’m still not sure why this is so important to you, or why you keep fighting for me when you don’t even know me,” I admit.

Leaning forward to rest his nose and forehead against mine, he whispers hoarsely, “Anything I truly want is worth fighting for, and more than anything, I want you.”

His eyes implore mine as his minty breath fills my nostrils, and I desperately want him to kiss me, to taste his mouth again, but instead, he backs away slowly. “Talk to you in a week. Please try not to hurt yourself again, Blake. I’ll be worried,” he says as he ambles back to his vehicle, his stare never leaving mine.

Once I realize he’s waiting for me to get into my own car before he does the same, I open the door and slide onto the cloth seat. Knowing he’s still watching, I refrain from banging my head on the steering wheel, even though that’s exactly what I feel like doing. Instead, I drive out of the parking lot and towards my apartment, where I’ll be left alone to decide if I’m willing to take the risk of getting involved with Madden Decker.